


Magic's Design

by jedia_lo21



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedia_lo21/pseuds/jedia_lo21
Summary: Vanyel is given another choice after defeating Leareth. He can go back in time to when he first came to Haven and first fell in love with Tylendel,  root out the enemy, and prevent Valdemar from ever facing the war that had plagued it for nearly twenty years. A different chance to serve Valdemar and save its people from destruction.But he can't save himself from the grief of seeing old friends (and lover) alive after all this time. And how will they react to him, now more than twice his age, hair silvered, and more powerful than anything they could've expected out of a once skinny boy exiled from Forst Reach?
Relationships: Vanyel Ashkevron/Stefen, Vanyel Ashkevron/Tylendel Frelennye
Comments: 24
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors. I'm unbeta'd.

Vanyel raised his eyes to meet Leareth’s, and with one smooth motion, mounted and settled into Yfandes’ saddle, and answered the mage’s offer with a calm smile and a single word.

“No.”

The beautiful, sculptured face rippled with rage. Leareth’s lip curled into a snarl. “Then you and your Companion will be slaughtered. You have doomed your people to Darkness, Herald-Mage Vanyel. Valdemar is mine.”

Yfandes bared her teeth at him, an angry roar rising in her throat. Vanyel took comfort in the warmth of her neck beneath his hand, the hard leather of her saddle, and her presence in his mind promising strength. The two of them had one chance to make this right. The thought should have filled him with terror, but strangely, Vanyel didn’t fear the odds. ‘Fandes would be with him to the very end, and together, they could take on this enemy of Valdemar.

Years ago, the terror of dying alone would have crippled him until he resembled the same frightened boy with no sense of duty to the people around him. The one who had looked ‘Lendel in the eyes with confusion and no small amount of pity at the thought of putting others before himself. Vanyel had changed so much, and now, here at the end, he felt only calm and free.

_ :You have made me proud, beloved. We are together to the end,:  _ Yfandes said, love threading the words with so much weight that they brought tears to Vanyel’s eyes.

And he understood.

Leareth had no one and nothing but his own greed and rage to fuel him. Vanyel had ‘Fandes. He had Stef. He had Valdemar. He had so much love rallying behind him.

_ :Ready, love?:  _ he asked as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and blurred the icy landscape and the black-clad enemy and the sea of obsidian soldiers ahead.

_ :Always.: _

Vanyel plunged into the stores of his energy. The channels that had once been ripped open years ago by Gate backlash burned and seared a path up his spine. It hurt. Gods, it hurt drawing on this amount of power, but he had to. He had to.

Vanyel sought out the pathways of node energy pooling at the base of the pass. The power flooded him, making him a part of its force. The maelstrom of energy gathered, tethered only by the will of his mind, ready to be released and rage forward.  _ Not yet _ . Leareth was still seething, raising his hands in the first stages of calling his power down. 

‘Fandes flooded him with her strength. Her love and rage melded into a spear of pure, white-hot energy that Vanyel gripped the stream of, prepared to heave it along with the energy inside him that whirled with node power.

Vanyel raised his eyes to meet a pair of obsidian ones. For the last time. Leareth would not be leaving this pass alive. Not if Vanyel had anything to say about it.

Leareth’s eyes gleamed in premature triumph. His hands flashed, calling on mage-lightning that thundered down into the ground, splintering under the ice toward him. The energy crackled with a heat that promised destruction.

Vanyel exhaled and let the energy inside him go.

It burned outward in an explosion of white-hot power that seared him to the bone. There was a flash of pure, unparalleled agony. Vanyel opened his mouth to scream. There had never been a pain like this before, liquefying his very being even as it moved through him. Power that disintegrated his flesh and bones as it used his body to spring outward.

A Final Strike.

Yfandes’ answering scream shattered through his mind, splintering his aching heart with shards of pain like gleaming glass. A blinding light pierced his vision as he reeled from the pain his dearest Companion was suffering. A muffled nudge of love and warmth cradled him as Yfandes embraced him for the last time and then faded from him entirely.

And then there was nothing. Just the echo of power burning its last spiral at the most powerful enemy Valdemar had ever seen. Vanyel felt the reverberations of it strike him just before the nothingness spread over him: Leareth was no more.

If he had lips anymore to smile, he would have.

Valdemar was safe. He had done his duty.

Vanyel surrendered himself to the grey beyond.

***

He was standing. The pain was gone.

Warm air ruffled the hair at the top of his head. A muzzle touched his shoulder, and he knew without having to turn around that Yfandes was standing with him. A familiar figure watched him with a smile, eyes a blazing glory of sapphires and light.

The Shadow-Lover’s smile was still no sight for mortal eyes and Vanyel was caught, a moth to flame blazing with pure, warm starlight. He wanted to drop that gaze and sink to his knees, worship this being that promised beautiful, perfect serenity.

“My dear Vanyel,” the voice of amber, silk, and steel blanketed him with a sense of soul-deep relief. He was back in this grey beyond, the place between Life and Death.

“I have fulfilled magic’s promise,” Vanyel whispered, surprised at the strength of his voice when his throat had been burned away in the Final Strike, “and have paid magic’s price. Those who depended on me, on my strength, are safe now.”

Death’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, beloved,” He murmured, and stepped forward, drawing Vanyel into the circle of his strong arms. Death tightened his arms around him, until Vanyel’s head was cradled beneath his chin, tucked into the warmth of a lover’s embrace. “You have done more than enough.” Death’s breath moved against his ear, lightly stirring his hair.

A hand came up to tangle in the strands of his hair. Vanyel’s lids fluttered at the sensation, at the pleasure that quivered down his spine. Death held him for a moment longer, then let him ago.

Vanyel opened his eyes in surprise and met sad, luminous sapphiric ones that flared with pride and grief. Death reached out, cradling his cheek in His palm. “Vanyel, I once told you that because of what you are and what you have become, you stand at the crossroads of possibilities. You chose Life once, and the pain and loss that came with it. You have fulfilled your promise. And yet,” Death’s voice was soft with sorrow, “You stand at the crossroads once more.”

“I must choose again?” Vanyel whispered, bewildered.

“Life in between,” replied the Power, eyes dimming with grief, “Or myself...or another path lays open before you. One that promises pain and loss once more...along with the chance to right wrongs and change the design of fate.”

“What?”

“I promised you peace once. An end to pain and loneliness and grieving. I offer you the chance to return and take up your burden once more, although not in a form that is familiar. And I can also offer you Life again, and the loneliness and pain that comes with it. You will be alone in a land among a people both strange and familiar. You will grow apart from others, weighed down both by the grief of hindsight as well as the burden of change. The Valdemar you knew will bear the brunt of whatever change you give it, and her people might not suffer from the decades of grief you yourself have lived through. On your actions, the fate of Valdemar will rely upon once more.”

Vanyel’s head reeled with the information. He felt an ache deep in his bones that wanted to take the Shadow-Lover’s hand and sink into the lover’s embrace of Death. His heart spasmed in pain at the thought of losing this peace and the promise that he would never feel hurt and loss ever again. And yet, the duty that had carried him on for nearly two decades thrummed in his heart and in his soul.

He had the power to protect Valdemar again. Two paths, Death had said. One that wasn’t quite living and one that promised life and the chance to change Valdemar’s fate. He could prevent his people from ever feeling the grief and pain of war. Depending on his actions.

Yfandes nuzzled his shoulder.  _ :Dearheart,:  _ she whispered in his head.  _ :I am with you always, whatever path you decide to choose. I have never left you and I will never leave you.: _

Vanyel turned, rested his forehead on Yfandes’. His silver hair stirred against the white hairs of her forelock, blending both together in strands of starlight.  _ :Are you sure, beloved?:  _ He replied, stroking her muzzle, drowning in the warmth and love in her deep blue eyes.  _ :Back to the earth and all the suffering?: _

_ :We have been called, Chosen. Who is more well-suited than us?:  _ Yfandes’ eyes twinkled.

Vanyel sent a rush of love down their bond and turned to meet Death’s beautiful, sad eyes.

“We choose life, and all the pain that goes with it. We still have a duty to Valdemar...we will always have a duty to Valdemar,” Vanyel said confidently.

“Once more, beloved,” Death pulled Vanyel back into the circle of his arms, lifted his chin with soft fingers, and pressed His lips to Vanel’s. “I am grieved and glad to lose.”

Vanyel closed his eyes, trembling with warmth and sadness both, basking in the sweet temporary peace. Death stroked his hair gently and kissed his forehead, lips lingering on Vanyel’s skin.

He felt Yfandes step closer, brush her muzzle against him, and then he was falling, falling—

***

Savil leaned back in her chair with a warm blanket and a grateful sigh. It was very early. Dawn had yet to paint streaks of color across the dark sky outside the window. A few stars still twinkled in the night, dawdling outside with a stubbornness against disappearing on the horizon.

Savil was the only one awake at this hour. Her trainees were still young and prone to the death-slumbers of growing youth. Old age was always tampering with time. She went to bed late and rose early, chilled to the bone especially on these wet, autumn days.

She sipped her cup of mulled wine gratefully, closing her eyes against the sweet burn of the fire that had been built up early for her by the servants. Old age, as prickly as it was, had its perks.

She closed her eyes, drifting in and out of a light sleep. Warmth crowned at the top of her head and spread down to her toes, coaxing her to lean her head back and drift away. . .

_ :SAVIL!: _

She was up out of the chair immediately, stumbling as her joints protested the rough movement. Her cup tipped over, spilling across the rug, and she spared a moment of grief at the sight of the stains on her favorite rug.

_ :SAVIL, PLEASE: _

It was Tylendel.

Savil tore off in the direction of the room that Tylendel shared with Vanyel, bracing herself against the worst. She had never heard him sound so desperate before, especially not through Mindspeak.  _ :’Lendel? ‘Lendel! Tell me what’s wrong,:  _ she sent him even as she burst through the door of his room.

‘Lendel was, thankfully, clothed, but the room was in ruins. Bed sheets torn and scattered across the floor. Furniture upended and tossed about. Splinters of goldenoak and shreds of fabric were all that remained of the once pristine bedchamber. And in the middle of the wreckage Tylendel stood rigid, eyes dark with fear and anger.

“ ‘Lendel,” she strode over to him, shielding against the waves of dread that poured off him and made the scraps of broken things around them tremble. She could Feel him vibrating inside, tense all over, on the verge of releasing a wave of that Fetching gift that might be strong enough to topple the Heralds’ quarters to the ground. “Tylendel, tell me what’s happened.”

‘Lendel seemed to come back to himself then, eyes dimming as the anger bottled up inside began to ease up. “Van’s gone,” he whispered. “I-I woke up and he was  _ gone _ , Savil. He’s just disappeared. I can’t feel him.”

Savil blinked. “Oh, lad, he probably stepped out for just a moment-”

Tylendel seized her arm. “ _ No _ , I can’t feel him at all. I can always feel him, but now he’s  _ gone _ .”

Savil stared at him in shock. He and Vanyel...they couldn’t be _ lifebonded _ .

No.

It was such a rare thing anyways, and ‘Lendel’s Empathy gift had always been rather strong. Perhaps he was closely tapped into Vanyel’s emotions because they were lovers. It wasn’t unheard of for Gifts to grow sensitive to a Herald’s close lover. Although, she hadn’t predicted the scale of attachment between her nephew and her protégé.

“You need to be calm, ‘Lendel. Remember your training. Those volatile emotions are keeping you from thinking clearly. Ignore your fear and  _ think _ .”

‘Lendel stared at her, eyes gleaming bitterly. She swallowed the trepidation that seemed normal these days with ‘Lendel, so tense and worried about his twin. It was getting harder and harder for him to shield against the emotions holding him back. One of these days, the boy would be angered enough to release a Levinbolt at someone, and if that happened. . .

As if sensing her thoughts, Tylendel blinked rapidly, and the threatening expression on his face cleared as he nodded. ‘Lendel sighed, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

Savil stared at him worriedly, feeling the vibration as he called on his Gifts to seek out his missing lover. She exhaled with him, lending some of her strength and a bit of shielding energy to him as he settled and Reached—

A surge of power shattered the air around them.

It was so strong that her shields warbled under the pressure, threatening to crumble as the sheer force of  _ something _ echoed down her spine, through her bones, and crackled in the air like the tense, unforgivable promise of a lightning strike before it splits the ground.

‘Lendel cried out, falling to his knees, squeezing his eyes against the mental onslaught.

Savil’s suite—and perhaps the entirety of the Heralds’ quarters—quivered ominously. She heard the groan of the foundations as the building threatened to crumble—

And then it stopped.

Savil nearly fell to her knees, gasping. Echoes of power, whatever it was, still hung in the air around them, weighted like humidity settling over the land before a major storm system moves through. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the aching throb starting up at her temples and behind her eyes.

“Savil,” ‘Lendel whispered, rubbing his forehead, “What. . .?”

The door behind them burst open and Mardic and Donni stumbled into the room, eyes reddened and hair mussed from sleep. They had haphazardly thrown on each other’s robes, and the Lifebonded couple looked comical standing in the doorway, each in clothes that were too small or too long. Donni even had Mardic’s left boot over her right foot.

“What was that?” Mardic said, clenching his fists.

“I don’t know,” Savil blinked. “But I’m going to find out. Stay here,” she snapped as she whirled past them and down the hall back into the common room. She snatched her cloak off the chair and exited her suite.

Already, Heralds and trainees were gathering outside, blinking sleepily against the twilight morning. Nearly everyone had been pulled from sleep by the explosion of power.

Savil spotted Jaysen, eyes stony and arms crossed over his chest at the edge of gathered Heralds, and she hurried over to him, squeezing her cloak against the chill morning air that clenched down on her joints and aching muscles. “Jays, what’s going on?”

The Herald turned, eyes relieved to see her. “No one knows. One moment, everything was normal, and the next, it seemed like a surge of energy backlashed at us. The building shook from the force of it. I’ve never felt anything like that, ever.”

“Does anyone know where it came from?”

Jays shook his head. “It was too far and too brief to get a hold of. Do you think you can get a signature? Find out who or what did this?”

Savil rolled her sleeves up. “Of course.” She thinned her lips in disapproval. “If this was at the hands of one of our own...”

Jays frowned. “If this was from one of our own, I’d be more worried about our ability to sense Mage potential. That surge of power was stronger than anyone here could ever make. Even the Companions Felt it in their field.”

“Then we’ll have a lot more to worry about than punishing a foolish Herald.”

  
  


Savil raised her hands, eyes closed, as she prepared to cast her energy and meld it with the presence of power that still remained in the air. It was disappearing quickly, but there was enough of a suggestion to ascertain whether or not the signature of the castor was recognizable.

The energy was malleable in her “hands,” smooth and warm like softened metal. It seemed to blend readily with her own signature, waiting for her to embrace it with her own power. Savil twisted her lips disconcertedly. Whoever the castor was, they had no ill will. Power like that didn’t just submit to anyone easily...and especially not a stranger’s signature...so why was it behaving like this? Like it knew her shields?

Savil traced the energy, wondering at its familiarity with her when she herself had never blended her shields this closely with anyone else except her fellow Herald-Mages and her own protégés.

And then she felt it. A slight pulse of something wild and familiar, buried deep in its signature. Node energy. This was power melded with energy from Ley-lines.

Savil’s brows drew together, frustration momentarily squeezing itself around her before she batted it aside. She tapped further into the energy and it gave way beneath her. She felt the surface of that wild, pure power that came from node pools, and dove down further. Further.  _ There _ .

Shock wrenched her straight out of her light meditation, and she fell to her knees gasping.

“Savil!” Tylendel’s voice, cracked with worry, pulled her back into focus as a wave of fatigue settled over her, threatening to send her to sleep. A migraine started a pulsing ache in her head, and she squeezed her eyes against black stars that moved to close over her.

A sudden pulse of warmth filled her and she opened her eyes as she felt ‘Lendel beginning to pour strength into her body. Minor aches and sores smoothed over. Even the hard ground beneath her knees didn’t send strokes of agony up her bones.

“I’m alright,” she grumbled even as she sent her appreciation to him through Mindspeak.

“Anything, Savil?” Jays reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Did you recognize the signature?”

“No,” Savil breathed. Tylendel stepped up behind her with a blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She wrapped it tighter around her body, grateful for its miniscule warmth. “But it did recognize me...and there are hints as to where it came from. I can’t be certain, but I have a close idea where it might have come from.”

She wanted, needed to collapse somewhere, and sleep. She hadn’t used power like that in a long time, and it was getting more difficult these days to perform feats of skill like tracing.

She looked up, into a pair of concerned eyes. One from Jays. One from ‘Lendel. She sighed. “It had to be from the Pelagirs.”

“The Hawkbrothers?” Tylendel’s eyes scrunched in confusion. “But why would they attack Haven like this?”

“Not an attack,” Savil corrected gently. “A surge of energy. Almost as if someone opened a Gate between here and there and it caused an energy collapse.”

“Someone tried to Gate there?”

“I’m not sure, lad,” Savil replied gently. “Whether or not it was a Gate, we need to find out what happened. And I have the best chance of gaining that information. Friends of mine, the Hawkbrothers, can tell me exactly if there’s been a mage tampering with nodes there and causing backlashes like those that reverberated here.”

Jays frowned. “Are you sure about this, Savil? That isn’t an easy journey to the Pelagirs.”

She shook her head, “It isn’t. But I don’t plan on riding there. It will be quicker to Gate, and the quicker I can contact my friends, the less time this mage has to get away. We need answers before this problem grows too big to handle.”

“You just spent most of your energy on those tracing spells,” Jays said worriedly. “You need rest, Savil. You’ll be Gating to your absolute limits.”

“Then I’ll rest. I’ll have one of the servants begin packing for me. As soon as I can, I  _ will _ be constructing that Gate. Whatever that was from the Pelagirs, it had the power to destroy the entire Collegia. Perhaps even Haven. We need to figure this out  _ now _ .”

Savil didn’t wait for a response. She clenched her fists in the blanket draped over her shoulders and set off for her suite. She heard quick footsteps behind her. ‘Lendel.

“Are you sure about this, Teacher mine,” he said as he fell into step beside her.

She nodded without looking back at him, or speaking her assent. The two were close enough sometimes to not need to share spoken words.

“And what about Vanyel?”

Savil froze.

_ Gods,  _ she thought.  _ How could I have forgotten my nephew in all this mess? _

“You can’t feel him still?” She murmured, watching in concern as ‘Lendel’s eyes dimmed in desperation and grief.

Tylendel shook his head, throat clenching as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“I’ll contact Andrel,” she sighed. “Tell him to spread the word to keep out an eye for Vanyel, in case he’s in the Collegia somewhere. I’ll contact Kellan too. The Companions can keep a lookout for him in case he’s wandered too far into their Field-”

“That’s it?” Tylendel snapped. “Just keep an eye out for him? What if he’s hurt? That power surge nearly brought both of us to our knees!”

“ ‘Lendel, he only has Mage potential. He wouldn’t be able to sense that power in his mind anyway. Perhaps the aftereffects of that earthquake, but he’ll be alright, ‘Lendel. Trust him to come back to you.” Savil rested a palm on her protégé’s shoulder, heart spasming at the look of absolute despair on her soul-son’s face.

Tylendel embraced her tightly. “You’re right,” he breathed against her shoulder. “You’re right. He’s probably gotten lost somewhere getting some fresh air. Selfish peacock.”

Even Savil could read how little ‘Lendel believed his own words.

“Cheer up, lad. He’ll turn up. I guarantee.”

Tylendel nodded, but his eyes were still haunted. Savil despaired at the look on his face, but she turned resolutely and resumed her path back to her suite. She needed to focus on this new information, on the surge of power that had threatened to bring Haven itself to its knees. She had never felt anything like it before, and that uncertainty was dangerous.

Vanyel would turn up. There was nowhere safer to be than in Haven, especially in the Collegia.

Now, she just had to focus on getting to the Pelagirs.


	2. Chapter II

Mardic, Donni, and Tylendel sat in Savil’s suite, watching her as she went through the things the servants had packed for her. She wanted to double check that everything was where it should be before setting out. Donni sat on the floor with her Lifebonded’s head in her lap. She was running her fingers through Mardic’s curls, eyes lowered at the ground.

Savil wondered if her proteges were angry with her for leaving them. She was still working with the Lifebonded couple on how to meld their magic together and fight as one. And she was still helping ‘Lendel on his way to receiving his Whites.

_Any day now_ , Savil thought, pausing for a moment as she scrunched the wool scarf in her hands and then folded it neatly again. _He’ll make a fine Herald-Mage if I could only knock some sense in him. He’s too preoccupied with the politics surrounding his twin. He’ll never achieve status if he keeps getting sidetracked._

“Savil?” Tylendel murmured from his place in a chair near the fireplace. His voice was subdued. It had been hours since the power surge had shattered the peace in the Palace...and hours since anyone had seen Vanyel. “How do you plan to get to the Hawkbrothers?”

Savil glanced meaningfully at the Wingsister talisman on the wall. “My friends will know when I arrive. I’ll be a bit useless after Gating, but I’ll have just enough energy to activate that talisman to call them. Unfortunately, I have to go to _them_. They don’t _ever_ come out of the Pelagirs.”

Tylendel’s mouth tightened and he turned away. Savil didn’t have Empathy. Not even a hint of it. She bemoaned the fact that people were hard for her to read. Diplomacy had never been a strong suit for her. But ‘Lendel had been her protege for a long time. It wasn’t hard to ascertain what exactly he was feeling.

Fearful for his lover’s safety. Confused that his lover was missing. And... _angry_ that Savil wasn’t doing anything about it.

_I’m sorry, lad,_ she thought with no small amount of despair. _Until we know if this mage is a danger to Valdemar, we must give priority to this. Over Vanyel_.

‘Lendel’s fists tightened as he stared into the flames. The auburn flickers painted ominous shadows across his features.

_You have known, son of my heart, that a Herald-Mage must put his duty above his heart. You must let go of that emotional attachment...to your twin and to Vanyel. You can’t succeed unless you do._

She hadn’t Mindspoken to him, but perhaps she didn’t need to. The words were written on her face if Tylendel would only look at her. But his Empathy could fill in the blanks of the silence.

‘Lendel swore bitterly, shot up out of his chair, and slammed the door on his way out.

“Savil, where is Vanyel?” Donni asked simply, breaking the silence that followed ‘Lendel’s furious departure. She was still stroking her Lifebonded’s curls, still staring nonchalantly into the floor.

“I don’t know,” Savil breathed. “I don’t know.”

She left her pack at the foot of the bed and sank into the chair ‘Lendel had been occupying. She pressed her face into her hands, massaging the anxious throbbing at her temples. Perhaps the stress migraines would take her out before old age ever could. She had never felt so old as she did now.

Her bones chilled and ached even sitting here before the fire. Her worry for Valdemar and her worry for Vanyel warred in her mind and in her heart. She felt like she was betraying her nephew not joining the search. The wayward youth had vanished completely, and not a single soul had seen him leave the Collegia or the Palace. But on the other hand, she’d be betraying _Valdemar_ if she didn’t seek out that surge of energy and find the wayward mage that might spell destruction for Valdemar’s people.

“Savil, get some sleep,” Donni murmured behind her. Savil just stopped herself from recoiling in surprise. She was out of touch with things. Jumping at shadows. Giving in to the unsettlement that came from the portent of a new, powerful mage in the Pelagirs. Now she couldn’t even sense someone coming up behind her.

_Get yourself together, old woman,_ she snapped at herself, and then reached back to lay a grateful hand on Donni’s.

“You’re right. I need some rest, Especially if I’m going to be Gating halfway across Velgarth,” Savil muttered.

Donni laughed quietly. “Go on and sleep, Teacher. Mardic and I will finish your packing for you. Don’t worry about anything else except restoring your energy.”

_Easier said than done_ , Savil thought wryly.

***

Savil squinted against the glare of the sun, scowling as she scanned for stray clouds in the sky. “Gods, I hate gating,” she snapped under her breath, digging the toe of her boot into the ground and extending her Mage-Gift sense up and out. Gating was finicky at the best of times and utterly dangerous at the worst. It played loosely with the weather system, as quick to anger as it was quick for a storm to suddenly shift directions and carve blazing paths of destruction on the unawares.

And moreso, Gating tampered with the weather. It gave off enough energy to create record, high-energy weather patterns. Usually for the worst. It was imperative that there were no storms or errant objects around that could affect a safe and successful Gating.

As she probed with her Mage-Gift, the prickled stress feeding on her emotions began to ease slightly. The storm that had passed over the heart of the city days before had disappeared entirely. Not a cloud hung in the blue expanse overhead. If she was going to Gate, it had to be soon.

Not only did she need to outrun the fallen mage in the Pelagirs, she needed to outrun whatever storm systems would be gathering over the fields soon. Autumn always left few days for bright, cloudless days.

She picked her way down the hills in the Companion Field, repeating calming exercises to herself with every step. Building a Gate was complex, grueling work, and every part of her mind needed to be calm and unburdened in order to make it happen.

She entered the Grove and breathed. The trees made a lacework of branches and leaves across the bright blue sky overhead, and patches of sunlight slipped through the bars of nature to light the ground at her feet.

It was the perfect place to set up the Gate. No one from the Palace would stumble upon it by accident and harm themselves unknowingly. And the peace and tranquility of the Grove left her breathless. It was really just added perfection that the weather was cooperating too.

The group waiting by the Temple was small. Mardic and Donni, Jaysen, and Tylendel. The latter of whom was wearing a scowl, eyes stormy with rage. The look was becoming quite familiar these days. The disappearance of his lover had put pain to the notion that Vanyel had _not_ just gotten lost after stepping out for fresh air.

Some Heralds had been gathered to run small search parties, and the entire Collegia had been alerted to keep watch for the errant boy, but so far, there was nothing. No evidence either, fortunately, that he’d been nabbed by a merchant with ulterior motives for blackmail. As ‘Lendel said, he had simply _vanished_.

Savil resolved to help search for the boy in earnest, once she returned from this journey. She would reunite ‘Lendel with his lover. Anything to restore that charming smile to her protege’s face.

Next to Tylendel, there were two Companions, Gala and Kellan standing side by side. Kellan’s gear was already laden with Savil’s packs for the journey. 

Savil simply nodded in satisfaction and turned to face the Temple door. There was no time like the present. She had to keep her mind locked on what she needed to do.

Building a Gate was an extremely personal spell that required the energy of the castor to be built into its framework. The spell-wielder had to have an extremely exact image of _where_ the Gate was to exit. Which was why only a single person could build a Gate. No two people ever had the same mental image of a place.

The Temple door before her had been used so many times as the end of a Gate. The material here was used to the kind of alterations caused by Gate energy. This would make it easier to build. She needed only to reach—

Savil raised her hands, centered herself, and closed her eyes. She summoned the power in herself, calling on the Portal that would open a doorway to the Pelagirs. She molded her energy into the frame of that doorway, weaving layer upon layer of herself into the foundation and beams, soldering it deep into the ground so it wouldn’t collapse when she warped space back upon itself.

She pictured the k’Treva territory in the Pelagirs, imaging how the rocks were placed and how the trees grew and what the earth felt like beneath her boots.

She felt the Gate drawing on her energy; all the threads that had built the portal were vibrating in tandem. With every draw, she lost more strength. The Gate was almost parasitic, sucking at her power in a way that burned through her body and left her weak. It felt like she was bleeding from an open wound.

Suddenly there was a silent explosion of light, and the picture of the k’Treva vale she was holding onto in her mind could be seen even through her closed eyelids.

Savil dropped her hands, opened her eyes, and swayed as a wave of exhaustion crashed down on her. Kellan was already beside her, steady as she groped to catch the pommel of her saddle. She looked up, blinking against her wheeling vision, until she could catch sight of the rock and sand that lay on the other side of the Portal.

She turned to glance once more back at her concerned proteges and Jaysen. They were looking aghast at the image in the Portal of the wild stretch of Starwind’s territory.

_:Don’t worry about me, dear one:_ She Mindspoke to Tylendel. _:There’s a cave entrance on the other end of the Gate, and my friends will be with me soon. I swear to you, lad, I will find out what is happening immediately and then come back. We will search for Vanyel together. Don’t despair.:_

For a moment, she was only privy to the edge of the shields closed around ‘Lendel’s thoughts. Their magic had melded together so many times before that he rarely ever erected thick shields like this around himself. It felt like he was blocking her out in anger.

But then—

_:Thank you, Teacher-mine. I’ll hold you to that.:_

She sighed in relief at the subtle, teasing inflection of his thoughts. Tylendel hadn’t disappeared inside himself entirely. There was still some of himself in there, buried deep under fear for his lover.

_:Imp,:_ she snapped back in mock outrage.

A breath of laughter tingled across her shields and Savil let herself smile for just a moment before she ushered Kellan forward and into the Portal.

***

Savil moaned softly as she turned to slip off Kellan’s back, and instead fell off, striking the sand with her knees as the vertigo threatened to send her into blackness. She fumbled for the Wingsister talisman, gripping it tightly in her fingers as she got heavily to her feet and trudged through the dense ground for the cave in the distance. 

Her vision was swimming. Her body cried out for her to sink to the ground, pillow her head on her arms, and sleep for a millenia. A sharp snort from Kellan ushered her forward.

She barely had the energy to take the Gate down and lay a fire in the cave. Pulling the Gate apart tendril by tendril was nearly maddening. It was necessary though, and the only way to restore some of the energy she had used to build it in the first place. But the process was still rough, and not to mention dangerous. Her tired, languid mind wanted nothing more than her soft chair in the Herald suite. It was difficult to focus on neatly and safely pulling the Gate energy apart and drawing it back into herself.

Now, her teeth chattered and she drew her cloak around her desperately as she waited for the heat of the flames to reach her. Watching firelight dance across the cave walls was enough to lull her into a trance-like state. She felt so dizzy staring into the undulating flames throwing blinking shadows all around. It would only take a moment—just a moment—to close her eyes and fall asleep here in this comfortable cave...

Her fingers slipped on the talisman and her mind shocked awake just long enough for her to prick her finger and let three drops of blood fall upon it before she shoved the talisman aside, curled up against Kellan’s body, and let the darkness wash over her.

_:Arise, sister-of-my-heart.:_

She started in surprise, eyes flashing on white and shadow flickering at the edge of the firelight. 

Starwind k’Treva hadn’t aged a day. Same ice-blue eyes. Slender, powerful frame. Waist-length silver hair spilled out of his dark green hood. The sculpted face, infuriatingly wrinkle-less, was drawn with some concern.

“Starwind, _shaydra_ ,” she murmured, sitting up even as the fatigue threatened to send her back into unconsciousness. Between one breath and the next, she was suddenly being held upright in his arms.

“Wingsister, you stubborn woman,” Starwind chided, even as he poured energy back into her. The stars behind her eyes cleared. “Nearly draining yourself entirely in order to Gate here.”

“Something was here,” she blinked, and pulled her cloak around her, squeezing the fabric tight at her throat. “An incredible amount of energy from _here_ was felt all the way through the foundations of the Palace. It happened only days ago, _shayana_ , I need to know what we might be up against.”

She was already struggling to get to her feet. The energy her Wingbrother had given her was just enough to remind her of why she was in the Pelagirs in the first place. It had already been a few days since the energy surge had first shaken the Collegia. She needed to be out hunting the mage _now_ , or they might escape.

“Yes, from one of your own,” Starwind told her simply, shifting into the honeyed _Tayledras_ tongue. His ice-blue eyes were clear and unworried.

“One of our own? I couldn’t read his signature,” Savil protested, bewildered at the unconcern the Tayledras Adept was expressing toward the situation. “We need to find this mage now. I fear for the safety of Valdemar if this magic-user isn’t brought to his senses. I’ve never felt anything like this before. You must have sensed it!”

_:We are guardians of the Pelagirs, Wingsister:_ A new voice sounded in her head.

Savil looked over Starwind’s shoulder as the firelight flickered and a new figure stepped into the mouth of the cave. Moondance k’Treva had changed entirely. Gone was the silhouette of the boy Tallo. Gone was the mop of brown hair and muddy eyes. Here was a Tayledras Healer that could have been Starwind’s brother. Waist-length silver hair. Ice-blue eyes. He carried himself differently, too. More self-assured. More confident. More steady.

Moondance smiled at her. “Bright the day.”

“Wind to thy wings, _Shayana_ ,” Savil repeated automatically, still mystified by the change in his appearance.

“We are guardians of the Pelagirs,” Moondance repeated. “The surge did not go unnoticed.”

_"And?"_

“He is under k’Treva protection.”

“Under— _what?”_

Starwind rose smoothly and then helped Savil to stand. She braced herself for the telling ache that always came with moving too quickly. There were still some minor sores that pulsed through her limbs, but those had been following her for years now. She was used to the pains of old age. And once her energy stores were restored, she could use her magic in earnest.

“He is a Wingbrother,” Moondance smiled apologetically.

“But you said he was one of our own. How in Havens could he be _alsh'sh'el_?” Savil swayed, caught in a sudden dizziness.

Starwind took her hands in his own and steadied her. “He will explain himself to you. All shall be revealed in time. You need rest, Savil. As does he. We will ride; the _voorthayshen_ is not far from here.”

“ _He_ needs rest?” Savil asked sharply.

“I fear that these many journeys to k’Treva have taxed even our Wingbrother,” Moondance smiled, something like bemusement lighting his now-strange features.

“Are you saying that my coming here has caused him some sort of harm?”

“The energy from the Gate,” Starwind cut in smoothly. “He is particularly sensitive to its power.”

“I won’t apologize for it. _He_ nearly sent the Palace toppling to the ground.”

“All in due time, sister,” Moondance murmured. “Come, you need rest.”

Starwind took Savil’s hand and helped her out of the cave while Moondance put the fire out without a single backward glance.

***

She woke surrounded on all sides by greenery. A lacework of thick branches crossed overhead, and plumes of ferns sprouted from their trunks, spreading out and downward to form a thick canopy of lush, soft green. Beams of sunlight threaded past the fern fronds and warmed her bed.

She stilled for a moment, if only to enjoy the peace she was feeling before old age could swoop down like a hawk and sink its talons into her joints. The blankets around her, green as moss, felt thick and heavy like velvet.

She contemplated letting sleep pull her back down into darkness again. She hadn’t had quite a peaceful and late morning like this in so long. What was just a moment longer in this canopy of green?

And then she remembered.

The errant mage.

The one Starwind and Moondance called “Wingbrother.”

Warm sleep would have to wait.

Savil slipped tiredly out of the bed, groaning as her old joints cracked and protested. She checked her energy stores and nodded with satisfaction. Good sleep had done her well. She hadn’t felt this fresh in ages. Constantly training her proteges had taken a toll on her body. While she wasn’t useless yet, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be unable to even roll out of bed. Perhaps by then she could retire here. Live out her days in a bed just like this one, and warmed by sunlight streaming in through a blanket of fern.

A plate of sliced bread, cheese, and fruit had been left in an alcove of one of the thick tree branches near the bed. Next to it was an earthenware beaker of cold cider.

Her packs had been left by the foot of the bed. She ate and dressed gratefully, pulling on one of Moondance’s green wrap-robes over her own clothes. She crossed the threshold of the door, continued past the bathing room, and stepped into the next alcove where the living trunk of a tree sprouted through the stone floor and continued upward.

Moondance was there waiting for her.

“Is he up there?” Savil asked, wondering at the idea of a stranger being invited into Starwind’s _ekele._

_But he isn’t a stranger, is he?_ She asked herself. _Moondance called him Wingbrother_.

_:Yes, Wingsister,:_ came the reply. _:He wants to speak with you. My_ Shay’kreth’ashke _is with him as we speak_. _:_

Well, if Starwind and Moondance weren’t worried about things, there was no reason to keep up this harebrained rationale. The answers waited for her above.

Moondance helped her up the steep staircase. Neither of them were very fond of living so high with the rest of the Tayledras people—although Moondance was much more comfortable than Savil was about those things. The network of rooms below, including the bed, were all Moondance’s idea, and although Starwind would never admit to it, even he enjoyed the comfort of it all.

The _ekele_ was like an elaborate treehouse for the Tayledra, although, moreso used for meditation, sleeping, teaching, and recreation. Starwind’s was, unfortunately, situated in one of the highest branches of the King Tree, and Savil gulped and clung to the staircase with each gust of wind that groaned through the branches and made the structure under her feet shift and quiver. She glared down at the view of birds flying _below_ them. The _ekele_ was too unnatural to be comfortable. Perhaps a retirement out here was not the best idea.

As if he could hear her line of thinking, Moondance turned and gave her a wry smile.

Her legs ached even with the extra energy Moondance was feeding to her. She wanted to take a breath, lower herself to her knees, and lean against the rail of the staircase. The higher they climbed, the thinner the air was. But she continued moving, ignoring the steady burn of her limbs that threatened to knock her feet out from under her at any moment.

Finally the last of the ladder came into view: a steep climb rising up to a hatch that was the entrance to Starwind’s _ekele_. Savil breathed a sigh of relief, hooked her hands over the wooden beams, and pulled herself up after Moondance’s swinging, silver hair.

She opened her senses, trying to read the signatures of the two beings already inside the _ekele_. There was the ancient, unending power that made up Starwind k’Treva’s energy signature...and someone else. Someone that felt younger though not any less powerful than the Tayledras Healer-Adept. If Savil’s senses were to be trusted—they were always—this being was even more powerful.

She wished she had an Empathy Gift, anything to tell her what this person might be feeling. They were too tightly shielded to probe for thoughts.

She lifted the hatch and peered over the gleaming wooden floor just as a gust of wind made the tree creak and sway. She seized the handles, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled herself up the rest of the way.

Starwind was standing on the far end of the _ekele_ , arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window. Moondance glided across the unsteady floor to his _Shay’kreth’ashke_ ’s side, legs steady as a surefooted sailor walking the deck of his ship.

And in the center of the room, kneeling on the floor with his back to Savil, was another Tayledras man.

At least, he looked like one of them.

Sleeveless green jerkin and darker breeches. His hair was silver, although not as long as Moondance’s or Starwind’s.

The man rose smoothly to his feet and turned to face her.

Savil’s mouth gaped even as the man across from her smiled shyly.

“Hello, Aunt,” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little cliffhanger to spice up your day


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for the end: mentions of sexual harassment

The strange silver eyes of Vanyel Ashkevron watched her.

Surely it couldn’t be him? Savil pinched herself desperately, but the undoubtable image remained before her.

 _“How?”_ She hissed, stumbling back a step.

Vanyel had always been a demure boy mildly infatuated with his circle of Courtiers that flocked around him like moths to flame. Much of it just a pose to hide years of melancholy and inferiority, but the fact remained that he carried a haughty coldness with him wherever he went. At least, before falling in love with her protege, that is. . . The boy she remembered was scrawny but beautiful with his fine-boned features and sweeping ebony hair.

The man before her was a stranger, if not for the familiar fine features. Instead of black hair, his was a full set of silver, quite like the Tayledras lovers behind him. His face, still utterly beautiful, had aged. Not with wrinkles, but the kind of easy temperance soldered by years of experience. It was carried in his eyes, in the way he held himself—shoulders squared and forward, ready to leap up at a moment’s notice. Scrawny limbs had given way to leanness and the kind of quiet strength that enemies took for weakness and only realized otherwise when it was too late.

“Vanyel?” She whispered, seizing the seamed line of her cloak.

He was right there before her eyes, and yet, he couldn’t be. There was no way he could’ve disappeared and reappeared halfway across Velgarth this quick. Nor could he have aged like this in three days.

The man across from her— _Vanyel_ —gave her a slight half-smile.

“Yes, dear one, it’s me.”

She startled a bit at the sweet endearment. It spoke of a familiarity she and Vanyel hadn’t quite reached in Haven.

“What is happening?” Her eyes flashed to her Tayledras brothers watching her from the window with infuriatingly unreadable expressions on their faces.

 _Vanyel_ sighed and turned around to flash a helpless look back at Starwind and Moondance.

“A situation like this one has never been seen before,” Starwind said mildly. “It seems to me that you have been given reign over your knowledge, Vanyel. You are free to share what you wish.”

“Yes, and what’s to say that my knowledge won’t get us into trouble too soon? If I play my hand too early, I might not be able to predict future consequences. Timelines could become too strange to anticipate and avoid,” Vanyel frowned.

“That is precisely the burden of your Foresighted Mages,” Moondance smiled. “Visions only offer a likely string of events that may occur at the very moment. By avoiding that end, one may just be playing into fate anyway. Or they may change only a slight aspect of that end.”

“But this isn’t Foresight. I lived through it. Twenty years of violent war. Now that I know who our enemy is—”

“There is still little that can be done,” Starwind interrupted smoothly. “Every mage in Valdemar was able to sense your arrival here. If your enemy is as powerful as you have shown Moondance and I, then you have lost the element of surprise already. You must not focus on the end, Wingbrother. There is too much at stake to fly full into the wolves’ den.”

“Show Savil what you have shown us, Vanyel,” Moondance murmured. “She was once your most trusted friend.”

“Not a single one of you is saying anything intelligible,” Savil growled. " _What_ are you talking about?”

Vanyel turned suddenly and advanced on her. She was too surprised to step back, only stare helplessly into a set of uncanny silver eyes as Vanyel took her hands in his own. Those eyes had once stared back at her helplessly on the first night of his stay in Haven. Years of emotional abuse had begged her not to be like his ignorant father in Forst Reach. And for the past few weeks, those eyes had watched her with some respect and trust as each had grown to acknowledge the other in their lives.

Those eyes had stared deep into Tylendel’s with love and no small amount of hero-worship. They had been filled with agony once at a failed dream to enter the Bardic Collegium, stopped simply by Potential and nothing more. Music that had carried him through life now a betrayal.

So many wild emotions in that set of silver eyes.

But _these_ eyes—these eyes staring at her now were old and powerful. They were dark with the memory of a thousand sorrows, aged by a thousand burdens, ancient with the sort of ease and comfortability that befit an old general of war, a venerated king...or a retired Herald-Mage.

Savil’s eyes narrowed and she summoned her energy to probe his mind.

Or at least, she tried.

She was met with a wall of indestructible shields, finely, strongly woven around his thoughts. But there was something more to them. Just like the remnants of the power surge had given way before her energy as if the magic had known her personally, these shields softened beneath her. They didn’t give way completely, but they didn’t lash out at her either.

And woven into them was a suggestion.

To any less experienced Mage performing a mind probe, they would easily be turned away, comfortable in the thought that Vanyel was not a magic user. The suggestion, even despite his shield’s familiarity with Savil’s magic, still whispered to her that he was nothing special.

But he was.

Vanyel was Gifted.

Savil blinked in shock, tightening her fists in Vanyel’s hands as if to pull away.

“I know,” Vanyel whispered. “I know. Everything has changed. But I’ll explain everything, dear Aunt, please.”

His silver eyes, as old and powerful as they suggested Vanyel was, begged her for something once more.

So she nodded and let him pull her down to the floor. There was a pillow there for her to sit comfortably on, a thoughtful, bewildering gesture. Vanyel copied her cross-legged position on the ground, still holding her hands in his.

Starwind and Moondance joined them there in the circle of meditation.

Vanyel watched her for a moment and then closed his eyes, concentrating.

Savil did too, and then she was swept away in a stream of broken, excruciating memories.

***

Tylendel watched dully as Savil disappeared through her Gate and into k’Treva lands. Moments later, the doorway began to close, collapsing strip by strip until the Portal energy was no more. In a blinding flash of light, the bare bones of the Gate vanished, leaving the empty Temple archway standing unchanged in the sunlight.

Gala stepped behind him, and her warm breath nuzzled his shoulder.

 _:It’s time, dear one:_ She Mindspoke to him.

Tylendel nodded. He turned to stroke her muzzle and press their foreheads together. _:Everything is ready, sweetling. I stowed the packs in the Grove. As soon as the rest of them leave, we’ll set out.:_

Savil was wrong. Everything about the situation was all wrong. His dearest Teacher—and perhaps even a mother to him all these years—was _wrong_. How could she be a Herald-Mage and not pay more attention to the problems at hand?

Gala had told him the morning of the energy surge that one of the Companions had gone missing. The old and mysterious Yfandes had disappeared just as suddenly as Van had. The Field had been searched thrice over by the worried Companions, but they had found no trace of their own anywhere.

How could Savil _not_ see what was right there in front of her eyes? None of this could be a coincidence. Two of their own were gone on the same morning that an anomaly had rocked the foundations of the Palace, and Savil was out traipsing through Pelagir lands. It was infuriating. This was precisely the reason he hadn’t told anyone about his bond with Staven.

Everyone looked at things the wrong way. Very few other Heralds had his Gift for Empathy. Other people could never know what it was like to understand someone just by being close to them. Whether one wanted to understand or not, it didn’t matter. Emotions crawled off of people on spindly legs that writhed painfully in his mind. Unending stimulation.

 _They could never understand_ , he thought bitterly to himself, strengthening the shields around his thoughts so Gala couldn’t pick up on them. _They don’t care a single bit about Van or the missing Companion or my own twin._

It had taken nearly two days to convince Gala that this was the right course of action. They would go out together to find their missing loved ones—Van and Yfandes. However long it would take them. They wouldn’t stop until both were utterly safe. Because _that’s_ what Heralds did: protected their own and defended those that could otherwise not protect themselves.

Nevermind what Savil had Mindwhispered to him earlier. That she would be back soon to help with the search. Couldn’t she see that she wouldn’t return soon enough? If Van had been stolen, he could be hurt _now_.

That was the crux of everything. Tylendel couldn’t _feel_ Van anymore. That warmth occupying his soul—right next to Staven—was empty and hurting. There was a gaping void there, cold where it had once held the presence of another being that melded to him perfectly.

And it hurt so much.

Every breath was another reminder that he couldn’t take in air on his own. His chest, his lungs, his very being, all belonged to Vanyel. And with his _ashke_ missing, his body couldn’t function with only half of itself.

Tylendel’s hands tightened into fists as he watched Mardic, Donni, and Jays leave the Temple yard and head off on their own, so untroubled to go about their normal routine like life wasn’t crumbling around them. Business as usual, but not the right kind of business. He tried not to glare at their backs.

This wasn’t the way a Herald-Mage should be acting, he knew.

But until Van was back safely, what else was there to focus on?

Tylendel concentrated on his Empathy Gift, imagining it like a thin, invisible membrane spreading out to blanket the Field. It was easy to pick up on people, since their emotions always carried them stronger than anything else through the days. Whether with anger and irritation, pain and tiredness, or happiness and content, everything in life boiled down to the feelings that Tylendel was so tuned to pick up on. Even the Companions were human enough to have the kinds of emotions that tripped his Empathy.

He focused his power, observing the ripples in his shield-like energy. No other signs of life as far as he could tell. The other Companions were far enough away to not notice anything amiss.

Satisfied that no one was around to watch, he led Gala into the center of the Grove and crouched down next to the dense trunks whose thick root networks housed the packs he’d stowed away the night before. He went through them once more to make sure all the stores had lasted through the night, and tied them to Gala’s saddle.

Here was more glaring evidence that Savil hadn’t been in her right mind when she left. She hadn’t noticed that Gala was saddled for a long journey, leather saddle and hackamore bridle and all, despite the fact that her Companion had been standing right next to Gala.

 _:Where are we going, dearling?:_ Gala murmured, sapphire eyes watching him with something like regret. He didn’t know how he managed to convince her that conducting a search with just the two of them was a smart idea. He remembered telling her something about the fact that he was tied implicitly to Van, inside and out, and had the greatest chance of picking up on any trace of his lover’s signature out there.

Shielding the true reasons had been harder than anything. He didn’t have the heart to tell Gala that he couldn’t feel Van in his soul anymore. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was less concerned about Yfandes than befit a Herald-Mage trainee. But she must have sensed the war of his grief-stricken emotions backing every Mindspoken word, because she agreed to the journey with only a hint of trepidation.

Tylendel swung himself into her saddle, smiling bitterly. _:We’re going after Savil. To the k’Treva Vale:_

Gala’s surprise saturated the air around them. _:Dear one, are you sure this is wise? Savil is already there. Surely she’d find Van and Yfandes there on her own. And what makes you certain the two are in the Pelagirs?:_

_:She won’t. She’ll be too busy trying to find that mage who caused all of this.:_

_:What makes you think the surge and the disappearances are connected?:_ Gala’s voice was tinged with irritation and no small amount of suspicion.

_:When is anything a coincidence, love? How do both Van and Yfandes disappear without a trace at the precise moment strange magic is cast across Velgarth?:_

Gala snorted. _:Strange as it may be, what would a mage from the Pelagirs possibly want with them? Van’s only worth- forgive me, dear one- lies in his ties to Forst Reach. Such a small Hold that it shouldn’t concern someone wielding this kind of power in the wild lands. As for Yfandes...Companions are not so easily kidnapped nor so easily led astray. Our magic can’t be exploited.:_

Tylendel’s hands tightened on the reins. _:I don’t know how I know, but I just_ know _, Gala. The answers are up there. I can feel it. I’m just sorry I can’t give you more than that—than a feeling.:_

There was a moment of silence, and then a wave of warmth spilled across their bond. Gala’s relief and unending love. _:I trust you, dearling, more than anyone else in this world. A feeling is enough for me. We’ll find them.:_

Tylendel let out a sigh of relief, and with it, a tension he’d been carrying since everything went wrong and Van first disappeared from their bed. The relief nearly brought tears to his eyes. He bent over the saddle, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears slipped down his cheeks.

 _:Everything will be made right again,:_ Gala whispered with concern.

Tylendel stroked the silken hairs of her mane, watching the starlight strands glitter across his tanned fingers. _:Are you up for this, Gala?:_

It was still an eight-day journey, even with Companion-level speed, and the closer they got to the Pelagirs, the less towns, villages, and places to rest there would be along the way. They would be fine for food. Tylendel could hunt, and there were enough stores in the packs for Gala. Along with whatever they found along their journey. But it was still the longest undertaking he’d ever been subjected to. Even seasoned Heralds didn’t lightly journey this far.

He had stolen a few pairs of Savil’s Whites along with provisions. It hadn’t felt good to take them from her room, quite like a pit opening up in his stomach actually, but he needed them in case he had to pass off as a Herald sometime along the way. As long as Savil didn’t catch him in the k’Treva Vale, and depending on how long it took to find Vanyel, perhaps he wouldn’t even need to come clean to her. She would be none the wiser.

But if she did happen to catch him out there. . .

He didn’t know what would happen. There were rules trainees had to follow, and this journey was breaking every single one of them. He hoped that their years together would soften Savil’s heart. Hopefully the chance to get his own Whites would be delayed rather than removed from him entirely. Magic was a part of the mage, and the Heralds were less inclined to exile their own especially if that mage was incredibly powerful.

Better to have a rebellious one in the ranks than a mage in the outside world with no guidance and no responsibility.

So he should be fine. Savil would vouch for him if a question ever came up about his ability to serve Valdemar as a Herald. But still, he was shirking his duty, skipping his lessons, and endangering both himself and Gala on a trip that had already been undertaken by a respected Herald-Mage.

Gala’s playful irritation pulled him out of his thoughts. _:Are you calling me old, dearling? My limbs aren’t strong enough to carry us there? I’m sure planting this old hoof in between your legs will change your mind. See if you’ll be able to participate in one of your little mating adventures ever again.:_

Tylendel laughed and flicked her ear. _:Gala, you are a_ rude _little bitch, I hope you know that.:_

Her quiet laughter twinkled in his mind, and he allowed his grin to stretch even wider. It felt foreign on his face. He had very little these days to grin about.

Gradually, though, the gravity of the situation interposed like a storm cloud settling over a sunlit valley. _:We can do this,:_ He sent to Gala, eyes locking across the Field where the two could break out of Haven unseen. _:Adventure awaits.:_

Gala snorted in agreement and then broke into a heavy gallop.

As the trees blurred past them, whipping across the corners of his vision with a speed only a Companion could muster, Tylendel thought of Vanyel.

Sweet, beautiful Vanyel. With his heartbreakingly fine features and silken black hair and his heart that burned with such sorrow and such love. Vanyel, who fit in his arms like his body had been molded to cradle there against his chest. Who loved him so fiercely and unconditionally.

 _I’m coming,_ ashke, he thought. _Hold on for me, lover_.

***

“Your hair,” Savil found herself saying as they picked their way across the vale toward a copse of trees ahead where a pair of Companions lounged in the sullen shade. “It’s silver.”

Vanyel laughed, and Savil had to physically hold back her startlement at the deep tenor of his voice, the confidence. Where the sixteen-year-old boy would’ve chuckled uncomfortably, nervous eyes dancing about, this Vanyel had none of those anxious qualms in her presence. His voice was older, layered with a self-assurance that suited those who had commanded armies at some point in their lives...and he had.

Savil winced as she remembered all those flashbacks that had been shared with her.

The war against the Karsites. The war against an army of darkness. The kinds of field work that left mages hair triggered and primed to unleash magic at a single wrong move. Vanyel had been subjected to all of it.

“I come here from the future and the first thing you ask about is my hair?”

Savil scowled. “Impudent.”

“Still that old tactful self, I see.”

“Tact has never been one of my strong suits. So, you can use the nodes? I assume that’s why I first mistook you for Starwind’s long lost brother.”

Vanyel sighed, fingering a lock of silver hair. “Yes. My hair held out for twenty long years using node magic, I’ll take pride in that. It used to only be streaked this way. I guess the very last battle against Leareth did the rest of the black in. It’s all silver now. I look like one of the old folk.”

“Still that _modest_ self, I see.”

Vanyel gave her a small, barely-there smile. “Oh, yes, quite.”

Savil shifted and looked away. Vanyel hadn’t gotten a breath in his life to be the peacock everyone had once thought him to be. Silken, gaudy shirts had been replaced with Herald’s Whites. And judging from the later memories she had received from him—Whites pockmarked with dirt and blood, slashed to bits, and bearing the marks of someone enduring war every second of every day—he never wore anything else again.

Tears gathered in her eyes.

“Oh, love,” came the soft response, and then his shadow was blocking the sun, silver locks shining gold in the light, as Vanyel kissed her cheek and then her forehead. “Everything is alright.”

“How can you say that?” Savil sighed, embracing him with all the strength in her body, until even _his_ bones groaned in protest. “How are you so calm, _ke’chara?”_

Vanyel’s answering sigh was shaky. “I’m not, Savil. Gods above, dear heart, I am not calm at all. You’re here with me, and that should be enough, but I can barely look at you now and not hurt.”

Savil winced.

Yesterday, she, Vanyel, Starwind, and Moondance had sat in the meditation circle for the rest of the day. They had come out of Vanyel’s memories, blinking and drained as feeble light from the stars leaked in through the window and threw long shadows across their faces.

Savil had barely gotten a word in about anything before Vanyel had ripped through them, stepped down the ladder, and disappeared into the darkness below. Moondance had shrugged, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and led her back to his room.

She had collapsed gratefully on the velvet green bed, utterly exhausted. Vanyel’s magic had fueled them the entire time they were under, but the weight of all those memories and what they meant for Valdemar. . . she hadn’t expected to be able to fall asleep, but her eyes had closed, and when they opened again, the sun was burning through the lacework of ferns overhead.

Vanyel had been sitting at the foot of the bed waiting for her to wake up.

She had blinked wearily, watching his face come into focus. His eyes weren’t on hers, but she could still see the dark circles around them, the sallow, thinness of his skin that betrayed the meals he wasn’t eating. The way the lines of his face, more apparent when he was lost in deep thought, instinctively sloped down in perpetual sadness.

The way the light through the ferns caught his hair, bathed his profile in golden light—he could’ve been one of the Old Gods.

Vanyel Ashkevron, _Herald-Mage_ , awed every one of her senses.

And then he had looked over and noticed she was awake and staring.

In the light, it was easy to see what she had missed when she first caught sight of him in the _ekele_. An imperceptible flinch when their eyes met, a deep well of sadness clouding those silver irises.

She sat up, laid her palm against his cheek, watching as his skin shuddered beneath hers, his breath hitched, and he straightened as if every nerve in his body was begging him to move away from her touch.

 _:_ Ke’chara _, why do you run from me?:_ She had Mindspoken, letting her shields down, ignoring the quiet amazement she still felt that their magic melded so easily. Speaking to him like this felt as simple and effortless as breathing.

And then he had broken.

Her heart shattered at the silent sobs wracking a form that was both strong and half a blow away from crumbling completely.

“You’re _here_ ,” He whispered over and over. And despite her bewilderment, she held him close.

Savil shook her head, ignoring the memories of the morning, and turned to face Vanyel. “In my room this morning,” she began hesitantly, “... why?”

Vanyel winced and shook his head, “I can’t—”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Dear one, _please_ —”

“You look at me like I’m going to disappear at any moment. I want to know _why_.”

Vanyel moaned. “ _Savil_ , the last time I ever saw you again, you were _dead_.”

Savil tripped and Vanyel moved to catch her fall. He moved like a dancer, like the sword masters among the _Shin'a'in_ who seemed to disappear in clouds of dust lifted off the desert plains. He moved with a speed and instinct that were traits of revered members of the Queen’s Court who had experienced war and had heroic hands in Valdemar’s triumph. Despite all that, he gripped her arm gently and tucked it into the crook of his own, steadying her.

“You didn’t show us that,” She said quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I couldn’t. I can’t bear to remember that.”

“So that’s why you were the last,” Savil looked down, watching the soft grasses of the k’Treva vale disappear beneath her boots.

“Yes. _Leareth_ ,” Vanyel spat suddenly, “Has been hunting Mage-Gifted children for years, Savil. And in our final days, he hunted the rest of the Herald-Mages until only I remained. I need to stop him. Earlier this time. We can’t go to war again, Aunt. Never again. I can’t bear losing everyone like that again.”

Savil’s mind burned with Van’s memories. So many battles. So many lives lost. Watching her friends vanish one by one had been nearly too much for her to bear either. And she had experienced it second-hand. That was their future if they did nothing about things.

“So what is our first move?” Savil pulled them to a stop under the shade of the dark, fleshy-leaved trees and ferns in the glen.

Vanyel shook his head and leaned back against one of the trunks, crossing his arms over his chest. They watched Kellan and Yfandes slumber in the cool grass a few paces away.

Finally, Van spoke. “Now that we’re here in the Pelagirs, I’m going to root out the blood wizard Krebain. Starwind and Moondance have already spoken to me about energy tampering on k’Treva ground. In the past, Krebain raised monsters from the Vale to attack the minor villages under Tayledras protection.”

Savil’s chest squeezed.

That had also been in Vanyel’s memories. The hand of this Krebain in the death of her soul son. She remembered seeing through Van’s eyes, the rain slashing down on the Tower that held the Death Bell. _‘Lendel_ , face grief-stricken, eyes empty, as he spread his arms wide and leaped.

Savil had felt Van’s horror, the chaotic stream of _no no no_ echoing through his mind as ‘Lendel fell in seemingly slow motion. . . and struck the ground with a ghastly _crack_.

Vanyel’s mind had broken in that moment.

And while he had tried to block the despair and agony from her and the Tayledras lovers, they all felt and heard Van’s heartbroken scream.

Savil shook her head, moaning quietly. “That bloody _bastard_ will pay. He will never hurt ‘Lendel, not ever again.”

Vanyel nodded, eyes cold with grief and anger. “In my timeline, Staven dies a fortnight before Sovvan.”

The trigger.

Savil closed her eyes. “That’s in five days.”

“Too late to change Wester Leshara’s mind. By now, he will have already hired Krebain to carry out his plan for revenge. We need to find him now before he even sets foot on Frelennye lands.”

“Any idea where he might be hiding?” Savil leaned against the tree next to Vanyel.

“No. When I faced him, Krebain came to _me_ in the village Covia, just at the edge of the k’Treva border. That, however, was after days of sending drake-swarms into the surrounding villages to slaughter the people. By then, he knew he was being hunted.”

Savil studied the palms of her hands, where crescent-moons from her nails had dug into her skin when she remembered ‘Lendel’s death through Van’s eyes.

“We must draw him out then,” Savil finally said.

“On Sovvan-night, Evan Leshara was killed by a pack of wyrsa. Wester sent an additional commission to this wizard to kill me, but it was only an accident that we ended up in Covia at the same time. I can only guess the path of his destruction in the surrounding villages. And he doesn’t even know I exist yet.”

“If he is still growing his stronghold in the Pelagirs, we may need to journey into the border lands, keep to the roads, and track him through village gossip. He is bound to have made a headway in these pursuits.”

Vanyel nodded. “Yes. Even a hint of him will be enough for me to track him. Wherever he’s hiding, I’ll find him.”

***

They had been following the Orhon River for three days. Tylendel leaned tiredly over the saddle, blinking the heaviness from his eyes. Riding a Companion was unlike any other feeling in the world. The trees and fields disappeared under Gala’s hoofbeats at a speed that should have been terrifying, but was only exhilarating. Every ride was a gift.

But they had been travelling for a long time, and Tylendel missed his bed back in Haven. . . along with the beautiful boy that should be _in_ it and safe.

They had stopped in a couple villages along the way, but Tylendel felt uncomfortable staying in any place for too long, even if it was overnight in a traveler’s inn. Something in his soul yearned to keep this chaotic path of flight on the road, to some distant place in the Pelagirs. He couldn’t sleep at night. He couldn’t enjoy the ride with Gala.

Everything ached to keep going and not ever stop.

 _:Dearling, you should rest,:_ Gala’s voice in his head made him lift his eyes from the saddle. The effort to do so was almost more than he could bear. _:You know I would never let you fall.:_

 _:I know.:_ It was all he could manage to say. A brush of love and concern from Gala touched his shields and he loosened them gratefully to let her in and settle in the empty, aching void of his soul.

_:Your heart feels so weary, dear one. I’ll be glad when we reach the k’Treva vale.:_

Tylendel’s lips curled in a half-smile. _:Me too.:_

_:I still think you should rest. Arriving there is only half the battle. We still need the energy to search.:_

Tylendel winced. _:I know, sweetling. But that’s easier said than done. There’s an ache in my chest. I can’t eat and I can’t sleep. Everything in me is pushing me forward. I_ know _Van is up there, I just know it. And I need to know he’s safe.:_

Gala was quiet for a moment, and then. . . _:We can’t be very far away. Riverford is only half a day’s ride away. The old man said the Pelagirs stretch just beyond it, and the k’Treva territory only a few days more.:_

Right, the old man.

Tylendel had bumped into him inside the tavern at Deedun. The village was so small that there had only been the one building that acted as the center of life. For the rare travelers passing through looking for rest, along with the old souls who labored in the northern mountain range to pan and mine. It was a hub to bed down as much as it was a general store, a place to catch up on the gossip, a sad market for the few merchants to sell whatever wares they collected from tribes in the Northern Range, and where the villagers got together to conduct council.

Tylendel had sat near the hearth, away from the gathering villagers and their poor excuse for a musician plucking out tunes on a lyre that had seen better days. Tylendel nursed a cup of spiced hot wine, and stared deep in the flames. In the flickering light and curling ash, he thought he saw images of Vanyel and his twin brother, each crying out to him for help. They could’ve been visions or merely fears given shape, Tylendel didn’t care. They burned his eyes all the same.

The old man had hobbled over unannounced, and sank with a low groan into the chair next to Tylendel.

“Up ‘ere’s the only place that don’t hurt when yeh get old like me. Near the fire.” The old man grumbled with the fierce energy that all old folk in their fits of passion sounded like.

Tylendel huffed into his cup. He wasn’t in the mood for war stories from the past if this one wanted an ear for the next few hours.

“Say, lad, why’s a good, strong ‘un like you out ‘ere in the north? No rough cloaks. Tells me that yeh ain’t one of them merchants. Soft hands too, pretty gold hair. Yer not a laborer neither.”

Tylendel pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at the red liquid sloshing in his cup. Something deep in his mind recoiled in alarm. This conversation had tripped something of his Empathy.

In Haven, Tylendel had lessons specifically tailored to strengthen his Empathy gift. He had trained in linguistics and tongues, reading body language and subtle cues, even probing someone through diplomatic language to uncover their true intentions, all things that could finetune his Gift and help him understand people in other ways than just through reading their emotions.

Tylendel straightened and let his Gift expand outward until it brushed the mind of the old man next to him.

Instantly, he clamped down on his shields, drawing his Gift back inside.

The disgusting, oily thoughts of the other man felt like burning poison in his mind. He didn’t need to have Thought-Sensing to understand the lust and interest rolling off the old man in waves. He didn’t need to turn to see those black eyes leering at him from a rickety chair.

Tylendel’s golden hair, sapphire eyes, strong, muscled frame. . . all of it a siren call.

Gala’s rage swept through him when she too understood what this man wanted from her Chosen.

“What’s it to you?” He snapped, glaring at the old man in disgust.

“No need to get huffy, boy. I’m only makin’ conversation.”

“Who I am is no business of yours.” Tylendel stood, setting his cup down on the floor, and pulling his cloak tight around him. He and Gala could sleep in the woods tonight. The man before him was desperate enough to seek out Tylendel’s room for the night. His skin itched at the thought.

“Come now, pretty thing. I’ll make it worth yer while,” The old man was struggling to get to his feet. “Hold on, now. Yeh mus’ be headin’ north. The boys here says they seen you comin’ up from Hirane, from the south. There’s nothin’ ahead of you but the Northern Range, Riverford, and then the Pelagirs.”

Tylendel drew up short. “What do you know of the Pelagirs,” he asked sharply, not daring to turn around and give the man more leave to harass him.

“Strange, old magic out there. Strange monsters, strange weather. The _shamans_ ,” the old man spat, “Like turnin’ themselves into birds, sneakin’ into the villages, and makin’ off with the girls. It’s a dangerous place fer a pretty boy like you.”

“ _Where?_ Where are the shaman clans?”

“No way to tell fer sure. There be rumors, yes, from people claimin’ to have escaped from those forests. Nearest clan may be less than a fortnight’s walk from the treeline, 6 days by fast horse.”

 _Gala and I can get it done in three, assuming this disgusting blight of a man is correct_ , Tylendel thought.

“I keep shop in Kelmskeep, lovely. Pay me a visit on yer way.”

Tylendel curled his lip, and stalked out of the tavern, shuddering as his sensitivity to that _lust_ and _want_ went numb with distance. As he saddled Gala outside the tavern, he could still feel those sinister black eyes burning into his spine. He made a note to avoid Kelmskeep at all costs on the road. A man like that could sent bandits after him, not quite satisfied with a conversation by the fire.

And something like wary intuition seared his veins. There had been something wrong with the man sitting by the hearth. Something in his mind was very wrong, but Tylendel hadn’t given that much thought when he probed the old man’s thoughts. They were too slippery and sickening to examine closely. It didn’t matter. Tylendel would ensure he never crossed paths with that nefarious soul ever again.

_:Think no more of it, love,:_ Gala sent desperately to him. _:I can’t bear it.:_ Her anger and concern shook him out of the memory of that too-warm tavern and the greedy, black eyes of the old man. 

Tylendel patted her neck in thanks and watched as the silhouettes of the trees in the dark whipped by them as they sped on.

Five days to get to the k’Treva vale.

Five days and he’d be that much closer to Vanyel.

He just had to keep this momentum and this focus. He couldn’t lose his lover. It wasn’t even an option. Soon enough, Van would be back in their bed at Haven and safe in the circle of his arms. 

Just five more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long one! Unfortunately, my life is starting to get busy again, so I probably won't be updating on a specific schedule. I'll try to post at least once or twice a week, but no promises lol

**Author's Note:**

> *The Valdemaran magic system kicks my ass. I'm so sorry if there's any world-building errors! Please let me know if anything is contradictory. I really tried but some of it is confusing as hell!
> 
> *Also, the section with Savil takes place the morning after Vanyel's and Tylendel's fight!


End file.
